


Escaping Fate, Embracing Destiny

by phoenixreal



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bigender Main Character, Drug Use, FWUCollections, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Original Character(s), PrideMonthRocks2019, Shooting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 13:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixreal/pseuds/phoenixreal
Summary: CJ Kim is a normal college student. He is doing what most college students do, figuring himself out. He has some strange dreams now and then, but he just thinks they are just dreams. He ends up with a huge crush on a senior that is on the baseball team. He doesn’t even like baseball, but he goes to games just to see him. Of course, he’ll never notice a nerdy English major like CJ. Things are good, though. He even has a good relationship with his parents and his twin sisters.He never expected his family’s past to come back to haunt him. It rears its head in the worst way possible and CJ finds himself the prisoner of a vengeful man. Thrust into something that goes beyond the everyday, CJ finds out that there’s a fate out there trying to destroy him. He doesn’t know how, but he has to reach for a destiny that he can just barely see.Preview ONLY.





	Escaping Fate, Embracing Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Looking for feedback on this original story. Please leave your comments and thoughts on it so I can edit and make it the best possible story I can.
> 
> This is a preview chapter only. For updates on this story, please see facebook.com/phoenixreal.
> 
> Please Note: while this is rated M for mature themes in this first chapter, the full book will be explicit and has Rape/Non Con in it. There is no non con or explicit scenes in the first chapter that I've posted.

****

* * *

 

**Prologue**

To Escape Their Fate

* * *

 

CJ Kim rolled over in the bed, fighting the sheets and covers he was wrapped in. He was deeply asleep as the dim light filtered in through the windows in his St. Peters, Missouri home. Turning again, there were images unfolding in his mind that were equally fantastic and horrible. There was no in between the two. He whined in his sleep and tossed once again as in his mind, he watched events play out.

In the pool at the end of the river stood a virgin beauty like no other in existence. His eyes feasted upon her purity and newness like one would feast on the greatest offering of the gods. Her hair was midnight black and ran in perfect straightness to a point well past her knees. From where he stood, he could not see her eyes, but he knew them to be very dark and large. Her skin was unblemished ebony. She was straight and still in all her beauty in the sacred bathing pool.

She stood with her head slightly bent, her hair falling over her ebon shoulders in black night over her dark body. Another maiden waded around her and cleansed her slowly with an ornate sponge. The beauty moved not one bit; the maiden instead positioned her body where it needed to be. She would wash her with steady hands, and then reposition her body once more to wash a different area. The beauty looked like one drugged.

The maiden finished the ritual bathing and walked her upon the riverbank up bronze steps to a disk upon which she now stood, her feet never touching the ground, thus preserving her cleanliness and integrity. The maiden began applying the perfumes and lotions to her. After this, she placed a white garment over her nude body, moving her arms and head as needed. The garment was edged in yellow and fell to her knees. The maiden pulled her hair from inside the back of the garment and pulled it upon the top of her head. She then began putting on the ceremonial robes. They were white and accented with gold.

The dress was fine white cloth. Over this there was a sleeveless robe. The robe was made from fine fabric and was heavily jeweled with all manner of gems. Then the maiden released her hair from its confines and let it cascade around her. The maiden pulled the hair away from her face with an ornate clip. She then led her to a glimmering chair above the golden disk and the bathing pool. She then turned and left the beauty alone to wait. There should be no one to bother the beauty at this hour, and there were also many guards stationed along the approach. Of course, the river side of the approach was not that well-guarded. No one believed that anyone would come up the rocky inclines from the life-giving river.

He watched in anticipation for the maiden to leave. He then took the only opportunity he would ever have to get near this beauty of mind and soul. He stood slowly in his hidden place and approached her. He kneeled at her bare and perfect feet. He let his lips hover above her toes, but he dared not touch them. He looked up, expecting her to have her eyes focused in the distance as they always were. He expected her to have a dazed drugged look she had always carried. They were not. Her dark eyes stared into his own as though she was attempting to see into his very soul. And she probably did see that far.

“Priestess,” he whispered in a shaking voice. “Allow me the pleasure of seeing your beauty without fear of death…”

His heart rose to his throat as she nodded her head in the slow-drugged way. He smiled and lowered his head and then stood and turned to leave.

“You have been watching me for a while now,” she stated to his back causing him to jump. He did not expect her to have a voice…

He turned and nodded. She nodded back, still slowly. “I knew you were there tonight as well, watching what no mortal man should ever be allowed to see.”

He bowed his head. “How did you know, oh great priestess?” he asked in a shaking voice. “And why was I not killed immediately for infringing on the rights that only the gods have?”

Her voice was like bells in the wind as she spoke to him. “I knew you were there, and you were not killed because I chose not to have you killed. Those are the only answers that you shall require about this.”

Her voice echoed on and on in his mind. He looked up at her, if only to reassure himself that yes, this was the virgin high priestess of the secret sect of Albeme, the highest of Brishna’s favor. It was she that he gazed upon.

Her eyes were not dazed any longer, but alive. “Priestess, why do you not move on your own? Can you move?” he asked rather timidly.

She smiled, actually smiled, at him. He nearly fainted with excitement. “I can move just fine,” she said lifting first one arm, then the other and then each leg in turn. “It is the ritual for the high priestess to be as such in the presence of mortal men and women.” She spoke in such a bold and true way, that his eyes widened a bit.

“And why do you move and speak now?” he asked slowly, turning fully to face her.

Again, she smiled, not only with lips but eyes as well. “Because, I know who you are, and you are no ordinary mortal.”

He looked up and cocked his head. “I’m not?” he whispered. She leaned forward and shook her head.

“No, you’re not,” she whispered back. “Go now, my maiden returns.”

She returned to her former position and he turned and left her with the maiden. It would be the last time that he saw her until the time of the sacrifice later that night.

*

The priestess stood alone next to the flames of eternity. She stood with her head slightly bent and her black hair cascading about her body, a vision of rare beauty. She raised her arms suddenly and then dropped to her knees before the flames. Her hands were folded in front of her like one in prayer. She had closed her eyes and began to chant softly. The high priest mounted the long stairs to the top of the altar and stood beside the priestess. He looked out on the people.

“Tonight is the Night of the Sacrifice of Purity!” he said proudly. “The high priestess has prepared for this day her entire life, and now is the time,” he exclaimed gesturing to the priestess.

From the back of the stairs came a procession of girls dressed in white from the town.

The voyeur cocked his head to the side from his perch on the edge of the alter. As no one but the upper class was allowed near enough to the temple to see, he had had to hide here until the time of the Sacrifice. He did not, however, understand what the procession of girls was for. In the line, he saw Khepri and Safiya. He wrinkled his brow. Khepri was his sister, and Safiya was his betrothed. Though both were the same age, both had been betrothed since birth. Khepri’s wedding was ten suns away, and Safiya’s was five suns away. Both were of the age of fourteen summers. There were other young girls he recognized, a total of eleven in all, and all were dressed in white with a yellow cord tied about their waist.

The priest spoke again, hands upraised. “The time of Sacrifice has come. Upon each tolling of the bell, a maiden from the town will be given in sacrifice. Upon the tolling of the twelfth bell, the high priestess will give her life in the manner of blood into fire as well.” His eyes widened from the hiding place. They were going to kill his Safiya and his sister Khepri. They could not! He thought madly.

He stood and began the descent and climb to the alter as the bells began to ring. No! He moved faster. With the first bell, he heard the first scream as the girl was thrown into the flames. He was sickened. And another screaming bell resounded in his ears, followed by another and another and another. Would they never end! Finally, he hoisted himself upon the platform, and then to the alter. “Stop!” he yelled as the priest grabbed his sister. The priestess looked at him in a way only he understood.

The priest looked so shocked he stepped back to where Safiya stood, holding his sister. “Jabari…” his sister whispered his name as she held onto the priest’s cruel arm.

“Young one, you displease the gods. You will pay with your life...” the priest said low so only Jabari would hear. “This is the Sacrifice! You need not concern yourself with what happens here!”

Jabari stared at him. “It is not right to take young lives like this. These girls have not lived. Why do they die?” he said.

The priest snarled at him. “It is the way of things, boy, you have interrupted the ceremony.” He turned to the guards who held the remaining three young women, among them Mairtra and Safiya.

“Guardians, kill him,” he said, and those who held the young women released them and lunged toward the young man. The two young women grasped each other and the final girl, Alisade, another young girl from near to their home.

The high priestess still sat, hands folded in front of her at the fire. She did not move. She did not speak, not even as the other maidens were burned alive. The smell of burned hair and flesh was heavy on the air. The High Priestess sat still, her eyes closed.

Jabari ducked blows from the Guardians of the Flame, ducking behind beautifully etched pillars with signs of their faith. Chunks of marble and stone flew as they chased the boy around, flinging great maces. The high priest stood beside the priestess, and those in attendance sat in shocked silence. Never before had the Sacrifice been disturbed. The High Priest growled and stared at the three remaining maidens huddled together. He stepped and grasped one of them firmly by the arm, Safiya, and looked toward the boy who was ducking and weaving.

“Jabari,” he said, and the boy looked, and before he could react, his betrothed was flung into the fire.

His eyes widened, and he screamed, “No!” It was too late; she screamed as she descended into the fiery pit. The bell rang for the ninth time.

“Come or I throw in another,” he said, his eyes burning. Jabari could not function for a moment and said nothing, the shock and horror at seeing the girl he’d known since he was small, gone in a flash of fire.

“You take too long,” he said and grasped Alisade by the arm and the bell rang out the tenth time, and she was thrown to the fire.

Khepri stood her face a picture of shock and horror; she was the last one.

“No, please, stop!” Jabari said, locking eyes with his sister. “I’ll die for her!” he screamed.

The High Priest smiled, “Grab him and bring him here.” One of the Guardians grasped him by the arm and pulled him toward where the high priest stood, holding his hands behind his back. He smiled.

“Too bad the sacrifice is set in the stones as being young maidens.” He nodded and Jabari watched as his sister was pitched into the flame by the tolling of the eleventh bell.

“No!” he choked, tears running down his face.

The High priest smiled at him. “Don’t worry, your death shall come swiftly, as well, though by blade rather than flame…” he whispered.

The High Priestess stood. She looked up, moving on her own, and all in attendance, all the best of the aristocracy gasped. Never had they seen the high priestess move on her own. The bell chimed a twelfth time.

“I will take the boy with me,” she said staring into the flames.

The high priest looked up in shock. “Is this the decree of our Mother?” he asked.

The priestess turned and fired him with a dark stare, her eyes livid. “I speak, and you dare question me?” she said, and Jabari’s very soul quaked. The high priest stepped back, and the Guardians released the boy.

“You will come with me, boy. I told you, you are not mortal. Neither am I.”

Jabari’s eyes widened to hear a voice in his mind. He could not resist it. He walked with mechanical steps to her side.

She looked deeply into the boy’s eyes. “Yes, you and I, we know each other. The fire will show everyone,” she whispered and then she grasped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. A gasp resounded. The high priestess was the purest of any. She was raised to not know anything of love and lust. Yet she stood before them, embracing the boy with a passion which made the oldest among them gape.

She released him and turned to face those who stood before her. He stood small and weak at her side, his blue eyes shifting around him.

“I am the High Priestess of the great Mother, She Who Creates, She Who Destroys, the Goddess Brishna. I face the Flames of Eternity, but I do not face them alone. The Gods know no recitude, for they live and love as you do. I face the flames with my beloved, Krineshaw, the Father, my mate. Now, we stand here, and I must ask the sacrifice be put to an end.”

She turned to the high priest. “I will return—we will return—and this place will be sundered,” she whispered.

Suddenly, there was a noise as an old man mounted the platform. It was the great Seer, Tambel. He looked to the high priest, locking eyes with him. “This cannot be allowed.”

The high priest looked up. Tambel was the oldest person and most respected. His word was as near to the law of the land as that of their leader. He looked with blind eyes on the two, clutching each other. She was so sure stepping into the fire with him would bring them eternal life, and his visions had confirmed it would be as so.

“Kill them with the blade of Emal.”

At his words, the priestess started and tried to leap into the fire with the boy. The Guardians of the Flame grabbed her.

“You can’t do this!” she screamed. “I must die by the flames, with the boy at my side so we may ascend!”

The high priest laughed, pulling from a sheath, the long, thin dagger. The blade of Emal was used for executions because it was said that the god Emal himself had cursed it to make those killed with it be eternally returned to the earth. “You shall not ascend priestess. Or, should I say Brishna and Krineshaw?”

The priestess tensed. Jabari was clueless as he looked from the beauty before him to the flames. She was going to pull him into the fire? She was going to kill him? He wasn’t sure he knew what was going on, now. The high priest held the knife against her throat.

“You will be trapped in mortality for all time. Your fate will be to live again and again, and always be separated from your dear Krineshaw. You’ll never break the curse of Emal.”

With that he cut her palm, and then cut Jabari’s. The blood dripped into a cup as the Guardian’s held their hands above it. He smiled and swirled the blood in it. He then dropped a packet of herbs in and stirred it with the dagger.

“Open their mouths,” he said, and they were forced to open their mouths as the substance was dripped. Both resisted, but it was no use.

The high priest then kissed the high priestess passionately. “I will claim you,” he whispered in her ear as he wiped their blood from his lips, and she saw that his palm was bandaged. He had cursed himself…

“You will not erase our destiny!” she screamed as he deftly slit Jabari’s throat. He dropped, his eyes blurring as he felt his life drain from him.

“No, but I can bind you forever in this fate…” he said, cutting her throat in one stroke. She too felt the drain of life, but more than that, it felt as if her very soul had been shackled…

* * * * *

CJ awoke in a cold sweat from the dream again. This was the fifth time this week the images had assaulted his mind. He got out of bed and stumbled sleepily to the bathroom to drench his face in water. Son of a bitch, he thought to himself as he looked in the mirror. His dark almond shaped eyes were red, and the whites were bloodshot a bit. Lack of sleep, he thought. He rubbed his eyes again and ran a bit more water for a drink. That dream left him so drained. He glanced at the red digital numbers on the alarm clock as they flashed over to 3:04. Wow, it was still too early to even think of getting out of bed.

“CJ?” his mom’s voice came from the door.

He looked up sleepily. “Yeah, Mom?”

“Are you okay, dear?” she asked softly, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, which she wore when she slept.

“Yeah, just had another weird dream. I’m okay though,” he answered and pushed his own black hair out of his face. “I’m going back to sleep now though.”

She came into the room and kissed him on the head gently and whispered good night and sweet dreams. _Sweet dreams, indeed_ , CJ thought as she left the room. He snuggled down into the soft black of his pillow case and wondered who this Brishna was he kept dreaming about, in various ways. And these strange people’s lives he seemed to be living in his dreams…

* * *

 

**Chapter One**

Opening Moves

* * *

 

Thursday, May 16, 2019

_[UMSL South Campus –12:25 pm]_

CJ sat in the stands with his book, looking like he was reading when he really wasn’t. He came by on the afternoons that he didn’t have any classes and watched the baseball team practice. He didn’t even have classes on the South Campus, he just came here to watch the baseball team practice. Of course, he was really only watching one person on the team. He caught sight of the mop of shaggy sandy blond hair and found himself staring again. Michael Heights was his name, and he had no idea that CJ even existed. In the warm St. Louis sun, he looked resplendent, and CJ had to force himself to stop staring so openly. He heard giggles from down the stands further.

“Michael! Hit one for me!” a girl yelled, and CJ sighed.

It was too much to ask for Michael Heights to be gay, he knew. The chances that the muscular blond was into other guys were slim at best, especially considering how much attention he paid the girls that followed him around. He supposed he was a good baseball player. He was the team’s ace pitcher after all. He adjusted his bag at his feet and went back to trying to read again. With Michael on the field, he couldn’t concentrate, though. Chaucer had no claim to his attention right then. He sighed again and put the book in his overfull bag and just watched for a while. It wasn’t like he had to worry about being noticed. No one noticed him.

CJ was an unassuming five foot and seven inches, which wasn’t that short until he considered that so many of the guys he knew on campus were close to six foot tall. He looked a lot like his father, only a bit shorter and thinner. He got that from his mother, he guessed because she was only five foot three. His eyes were golden brown though they were obscured most the time behind the simple oval glasses he wore. He had long, black hair that he kept pulled back in a tail most the time. His mother had been after him to cut it, but he liked it that way. It made him look kind of girly.

That was another reason he was different. He’d been exploring his gender lately, and he was finding that he wasn’t exactly just male. He wanted to be feminine some of the time, but not like drag queen feminine, though he wouldn’t mind dressing up like one sometime. His hair was so far the only thing he’d changed, but he found himself drawn to the women’s section in the store and wanted desperately to try out some of the cute skirts and dresses they had. He didn’t feel like that all the time, just enough of the time. He vaguely wondered if his tendency to dream about being a woman had something to do with it. He shook the thought away. It didn’t matter, he was guy, so he had to act like one.

He sighed, resting his chin on his fist and watched wistfully as Michael came up to batting practice. CJ had no idea about the terms and rules behind baseball at all, and to be honest, he didn’t really care to find out more about the sport than he knew already. He would have watched Michael walk across the hall if he could. He was still surprised they were practicing during finals, but it looked like they had just gathered together whoever was free to have some practice time before the end of the semester. Of course, Michael had been the one to gather them together.

“Alright, great practice guys!” Michael yelled as he put down the bat and everyone in the stands ran down to the fence as the players came off the field.

CJ watched Michael wave to the girls that were yelling at him, and his heart sank a little more. There wasn’t a shot in hell for him with a guy like that. Of course, if he wanted to know for sure he should just approach him and find out. There was zero chance of that happening though. There was no way he could possibly walk up to the star pitcher of the Triton’s baseball team and ask if he was gay or not. He blushed just thinking about it. That was something he could never do in a million years.

After everyone had cleared out, he got up, slinging his heavy bag over his shoulder and walked back to his car. He fumbled with his pocket to get the keys out, almost knocking his phone to the asphalt.

“Oof, that was close,” he muttered, clutching the device against him. It was the only place he had pictures of Michael that he’d sneaked during practices.

He sighed and brushed a hand over his sweaty forehead. How the hell was it so hot in the start of May? It was Missouri, that’s how. Stupid weather. He managed to slip the key into the lock and sighed. At least the parking lot was deserted because of finals so no one saw him struggling to balance his bag, phone, and keys. It wasn’t like South Campus was all that busy most the time anyway. Usually only the optometry students spent a lot of time there.

He got the door open and swung his bag into the car, tossing it over to the passenger seat. It landed with a thump. In doing so, though, he did knock his phone out of his other hand.

“Fuck!” he said as it hit the ground and skidded under the car. He hoped it hadn’t broken. He had a good case on it, so he thought it would survive that kind of drop.

He leaned in and started the car up so the AC could start running while he grabbed the phone. He sure hoped it hadn’t gone too far under there. He got out and looked under to see it was just out of his reach sitting, so he had to lay down and reach for it.

That was why when a van pulled up in the next spot, he really didn’t pay much attention. People came and went all the time, and he wasn’t thinking that in the empty parking lot, there was little reason to pull up right beside another car. He glanced to the side and made a note of it, but that was all. When the door slid open behind him, he didn’t think anything of it then either because there were a lot of non-traditional students here so a mom bringing a kid with her wouldn’t be that strange.

He managed to grab the phone and stand up with it. He turned it over and saw there was no cracks. He let out a sigh of relief. His pictures of Michael were safe. He turned around and nearly ran into a large man that had been standing right behind him.

“Can I help you?” he asked looking him over. He was very tall, easily over six foot five inches, and heavily built, with thick muscles. His heart skipped a beat. He towered over him.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, only stared at him. Finally, he spoke up in a deep voice, his near black eyes flat and almost lifeless, “Yer Don Kim’s kid, aren’t you?”

CJ started but slowly nodded. Obviously, the guy noted the resemblance.

“That’s good,” he muttered and turned back toward his van. CJ thought this was all very strange, but just as he was about to get into his car, he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He looked in time to see this strange man pulling a needle out of him. He blinked in surprise. This guy just stabbed him with a needle. What?

“Why did you do that?” he muttered as he tried to back away.

The man’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the bicep and yanked him closer to him. CJ had no idea what to do. It wasn’t like he was prepared for some guy to try and kidnap him. Wait, was that what was happening, he was being kidnapped? He didn’t know how long he had before whatever he gave him took effect, but he yanked away from him, feeling his nails cut grooves in his arm as he did so. He tried to take off and run, but just as he got both feet under him, a wave of dizziness hit him, sending him to the ground. He heard the clatter as his phone hit the asphalt again. He hoped that didn’t break it either, he thought despite the situation. Somehow his glasses managed to stay on his face.

The man walked over to him calmly and prodded him with his foot. “Just like yer dad,” he said and grabbed him up under his arms and dragged him back to the open door of the van. The world spun and a second later, he realized he was on the floor in a cargo van, not a minivan. He reached out but the door slammed shut. The world rocked a little and the last vestiges of consciousness finally left him.

* * * * *

_[Kim Household – 3:15 pm]_

“Mara, has CJ come home yet?” Donald Kim yelled from the foyer as he entered the house.

Mara stuck her head out of the door to the kitchen. “No, was he staying late today?”

Don thought for a second. “He shouldn’t be because it’s finals week. Remember, he said he’d be home early so he could watch Alex and Allie while we went grocery shopping.”

Just then two-pint sized creatures came running past Mara and into their dad’s arms. “Hey there kiddos,” he said as he hefted the twins up against him. They were almost four now, and getting a bit heavy for him, even as much as he worked out. Their birthday was coming up fast, June 6th. It would be quite the celebration with the party they had planned.

Their hugging was interrupted by the doorbell, and Mara headed over to answer it. Don proceeded to tickle his twins mercilessly sending them both into giggling fits until they were out of breath. He sat back on the floor, out of breath himself and wondered who was at the door to be keeping Mara so long.

He looked up as Mara came back into the kitchen, blanched paler than he thought was possible. Her blonde hair made her look even paler, and her freckles even seemed drained. Behind her was a pair city police officers. One was a darker skinned man with striking features and close cropped dark brown hair framing light brown eyes. The other was a shorter tanned woman with long, strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a bun on her head and piercing green eyes. Both of them looked very serious.

“Dear, what’s wrong?” he asked standing slowly.

She swallowed hard. “They found CJ’s car at the school. His books were thrown into it, and his bag. His phone was on the ground next to it. The keys were in the ignition and it was running with the air conditioner all the way up, you know the way he always does when he starts his car.”

Don looked between the officers, Alex and Allie clamoring for more attention as he did so.

“I’m Officer Vernon Miller, and this is Officer Patty Brown. We were first on the scene at the school when the security office called to report the situation. All we found that might be a clue is this,” the male officer said, handing Don a plastic bag that was sealed.

“Oh,” Don said, seeing that inside the evidence bag was a note addressed to him that read “I’ve come back for you, old friend.”

“Do you know what this might be in reference to?” Officer Brown asked, pulling out a notepad from her pocket.

“Daddy, play with me!” Alex said, pulling on Don’s sleeve.

“Sure, just a minute, honey,” he told the black-haired little girl. Mara reached down and picked her up and pulled her twin to the side as well. Neither child liked being separated from their dad right then.

“There is a man, from my days in the army. He might hold a grudge against me enough to do something like this,” he said, handing the plastic evidence bag back to Officer Miller.

“What can you tell us?” Officer Brown asked, making notes as they talked.

“Well, that I can’t go into, because you’ll need to contact Agent Richard Pearson with the FBI. He was the one that I worked with almost 30 years ago,” Don said. “He can handle coordinating things, I would think.”

The officers nodded, making notes. “Is there anything you can tell us now that might be helpful?” Officer Miller asked as Officer Brown made notes on the case.

“Just that the man who I think is at fault is a dangerous man, and should not be approached at all until the FBI can do something,” he explained.

After a few minutes more of asking questions that Don couldn’t really answer, the two police officers left. Don stood silently for a few minutes. He looked over at Mara.

“I’m calling Randy,” he said, turning to go back into the kitchen.

He picked up the house phone and dialed the number from memory, knowing that Randy wouldn’t have changed it since the last time they’d contacted each other. He waited and it was answered within a few rings.

“Hello?” came Randy’s voice over the phone.

“Randy. He’s back.”

There was a long pause. “They called to say he broke out of prison.”

“He’s got my son,” Don told him and tried very hard not to fall into tears himself.

“He won’t hurt him. He wants to get to you, not him. If he hurt him it would be detrimental to his plan. He’ll keep him alive,” Randy assured him.

“But at what cost?” Don asked. “Alive, yes, but hurt? You know as well as I do that he knows how to torture someone and keep them alive.”

Another pause. “I’ll tell Terry. We’ll be over at your place tomorrow afternoon.”

“Keep an eye on your kids, Randy. Both of them. The twins aren’t leaving the house until this is over,” he said.

“I can try, but both of them are old enough to have some autonomy. I can only keep them so safe at their ages,” he said with a deep sigh.

“I know,” Don sighed himself. “Try to be safe. I’ll talk to you both tomorrow.”

Don hung up the phone and looked at Mara who was still holding Alex in her arms while Allie kept pulling at her sleeve. She had tears in her eyes.

“It really is him, isn’t it?” she whispered.

“I’m afraid so,” he answered, not wanting to look at her.

“And he has CJ.” Her voice was strained and holding back tears.

“He won’t hurt him. That won’t get him what he wants,” Don tried to assure her.

“What he wants? All that man wants is revenge for you and Randy putting him away! You don’t know what he plans to do to him!” she exclaimed, clutching Alex tightly against her.

“Look, I have to contact Pearson. He needs to know what’s going on,” he said, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket.

Mara nodded and let the tears fall from her eyes. “Mommy?” Allie asked from the floor. “Why are you crying, Mommy?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, baby,” she said, wiping her eyes with her free hand as she sat Alex back down on the floor.

Don found the contact and made the call. “Connect me to Agent Rich Pearson,” he told the receptionist that answered the call.

A few moments passed tensely with the only sound Mara’s quiet sniffles. “Agent Pearson here,” came the response.

“Rich, hate to bother you, but we have a situation,” Don began.

* * * * *

_[Hideout –8:00 pm]_

It was as though swimming through mud to wake up again. Whatever he’d shot into him was effective and he couldn’t shake the lethargic feeling that came with it. His eyes fluttered and he opened them to see absolutely nothing. It was pitch black wherever he was. He pulled on his arms and found them tied down to what felt like chair arms. He yanked a little harder and felt the bit of the ropes into his skin.

“Hello?” he yelled. “Is anyone there?”

Only the silence answered him. He licked his lips and tried to see anything, but there was just no light in this place at all. Was he underground or something? His heart began to pound in his chest even harder. What was going on? Some guy kidnapped him, he knew that had happened. This wasn’t some movie where things like this happened, this was real life. Did people really get kidnapped in real life like that? Obviously, they did because it just happened to him.

He heard a sound like an opening door, and he turned toward it. Then, he saw a door open up a floor from where he was and the hulking man that had grabbed him was standing in the doorway filling it up. He could just see enough to tell that he was in some sort of basement, but the only light was coming through this now opened doorway.

“Hey! What’s going on?!” he yelled, trying to hide how scared he actually was. “Who are you? Why have you kidnapped me?”

The man came down the stairs slowly, and CJ felt his breath quicken. He found his tongue stilled in his mouth from the fear that was coursing through him. What did this guy want? Why would he do something like this? Was he going to murder him?

“CJ Kim. Aren’t you a pretty little boy,” he said in the same gruff voice that CJ remembered from when he spoke to him at the school. “Why am I not surprised that Don would have such an…effeminate boy.”

“I’m not effeminate!” CJ said finally, knowing that that was the opposite of true considering how much he’d been leaning toward the feminine side of things lately. It looked like this guy wasn’t too found of that sort of thing.

“With the hair and those features? You don’t even try to make up for it in any way. Long hair, pretty little face like your momma. You a faggot too?” he asked coming closer and standing in front of him. “You look like one.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” CJ asked, not knowing how to answer him without getting murdered in the process.

He snorted. “What I thought. Won’t even deny it, will you?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re talking about, but I’m not—” he started but the bigger man backhanded him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled. “You are nothing, do you understand? You are nothing but a convenient pawn in my game. That’s it. Just know that I’ll take special care of you since you look like the type that likes it rough, too.”

CJ licked the blood of his lip and stared at him. “P-please, don’t—”

“I said, shut up!” he snapped, backhanding him again.

Breathing heavily, CJ closed his eyes, trying to will this whole situation to be one of his dreams. When he opened his eyes, though, he was still looking at the huge man that had taken him. He ran his tongue over the split in his lip and didn’t say anything else. He didn’t want to be hurt if he could avoid it. Maybe this guy was going to ask for a ransom? That would be fine because his father was a doctor, he could afford a ransom, surely. If it was a ransom, he wouldn’t hurt him. He couldn’t.

“You’re going to be a problem just like your fucking father, aren’t you?” he said, grabbing CJ by the chin and turning his head sharply to the side. His father? What did this have to do with his father? “If you want anyone to blame for your situation, blame him. He’s the one that put your ass in this position.”

CJ tried to be silent again, breaths coming fast almost to the point of hyperventilating. But he had to know. “What’d my father do to you?” he managed.

“What did your father do to me?” he said, snapping his head to the side and letting go of him finally. “He got me thrown in a hellhole, that’s what. Him and Randy. They stood up in front of the court and told them what I’d done when I thought they’d have my back. But they didn’t, and now they’re gonna pay for it. In their blood.” He smiled. “Rather your blood. But you’re that fairy mother fucker’s son, so it’s his blood too.”

“My father’s not gay!” he snapped suddenly, frowning at the accusation.

He arched a brow at him. “How do you know what happened out there in the desert, little bitch? We spent a long time without seeing a woman, and I just bet your dad was the one to lay down and spread his legs for Randy. That’s why they fuckin’ stuck together.”

“Who is Randy?” CJ couldn’t help but ask. He’d never heard of anyone named Randy.

“None of your fuckin’ business!” he snapped, reaching out and grabbing CJ by the back of the hair and pulling his neck backward.

For a second, everything stopped, and CJ wasn’t staring at this guy. He was staring at Iman from his dream. The same feeling of horror and knowledge rolled over him at the sudden realization of what this man was to him. He was death. Without warning, he leaned forward and licked a stripe up the side of CJ’s neck, making him shiver and gasp out, trying to squirm away from him.

He stood up and glared at him for a moment. CJ didn’t know what to think as he felt the dampness drying on his neck. Why did he do that? Why would he if he hated him so much? He let out a shaky breath and bit down on his split lip, sending a sharp pain through him. It kept him grounded though, and the image of this man didn’t turn into that dream villain again.

“Huh, you’re a fuckin’ fairy bitch like your AIDS lovin’ father,” he said, and CJ swore that he had a look on his face that didn’t match his words. “But you got one more, don’t you? You wanna be a girl so bad you can taste it, don’t you?”

CJ’s eyes widened a bit and he just wanted this man to stop and go away. He just wanted to be left alone. He tried to deny what he was saying, but he couldn’t lie. He couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried. “That-that’s not—”

He smiled then. “Oh, I think I’ve struck a chord, haven’t I?”

“Please,” he whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Just, don’t…”

He laughed then, leaning over suddenly, grabbing his arms at the wrist where they were tied down and leaning up to CJ’s face, almost nose to nose. “Tell me, does you dad have all the Boy George and George Michaels’ albums? Maybe even arranged back to front so they can buttfuck each other, hmm?”

CJ had no idea who Boy George and George Michaels were, so he just ended up looking more confused than before. This man, though, thought the fact that he was confused was apparently greatly amusing because he had an incredibly smug look on his face.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, standing back up suddenly.

CJ had no clue what this guy wanted. He had gathered his dad had done something to him, so he guessed it must have been when he was in the military or something as a medic. His dad never talked about that time in his life, saying that it was a bad time for everyone, and no one wants to listen to old war stories anyway. All CJ knew was that he’d been in Desert Storm and spent a lot of time overseas before he was born.

“Fuckin’ faggots, what you all are,” he mumbled, glaring at him and there was just enough light that CJ could see a scar that ran near one of his eyes. It looked like he’d nearly lost the eye.

He snorted and then reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a syringe. He uncapped it and grabbed hold of CJ’s arm. CJ jerked his arm a bit and he only squeeze hard.

“Be fuckin’ still before I just jab it in your fucking face.”

CJ froze, watching as he slid the needle into him and pushed the plunger down. He winced at the slight pain it caused and breathed deeply a few times. He looked up at him and saw him watching carefully.

“That should take care of you until the bitch gets here,” he mumbled.

He took the empty syringe and turned around and headed back up the stairs. As he left, the world began to fade around the edges of CJ’s vision. He felt kind of good, though, as whatever it was hit his system. He nodded his head forward and if it hadn’t been for the ropes holding him in the chair, he would have definitely slid out of it.


End file.
